The Great Divide
by Awesomegreentie
Summary: Random moments of Bromance between Robert Crawley and John Bates. Not in chronological order.
1. Chapter 1: A Conversation in Africa

**A/N The happiest of birthdays to my favorite fanfic author JamesLuver. I remember the first time you reviewed one of my stories I felt like a rock star. It isn't what you asked for, but it's what my muse provided. Hope you enjoy.**

Both men stared into the fire.

"Do you ever get homesick, Bates?" Captain Crawley asked.

The younger man gave a bitter chuckle before answering, "God no. I joined up to get away from home."

"Was it that bad?" Robert asked after taking another drink, "Worth all this?" He gestured toward the camp.

Bates took a drink of his own and continued to stare at the fire for a long interval. Robert had just given up on him ever answering when the sergeant finally spoke.

"I was a footman in a fine house as a young man…"

"Were you?" Robert said in surprise. "That explains why you're so good as a batman. Have you ever thought of being a valet? I'll hire you myself if we ever get out of this hell hole."

Bates laughed bitterly again, "That was a long time ago. Before I joined the army I worked the docks in London." He took a long pull on his fag and slowly released the smoke, "I hated that job."

"What made you quit being a footman and go to the docks?"

"I got married. The thing about being a footman in London is that there are plenty of opportunities to get yourself into trouble during your time off. I'm very good at getting into trouble."

"You're very good at getting me out of trouble."

John smiled, "That's my duty, Sir."

"It's very much appreciated, Sargeant."

"Anyway, besides drinking too much, one of the ways I got myself in trouble was that I met a girl. She was fierce and fiery and with her I could and did act completely differently than I did at Sutton House. She told me she was pregnant and that we had to get married."

"I didn't know you had a child."

"I don't," Bates took another swig and tossed his now empty bottle aside.

Robert stirred the fire in order to avoid eye contact, "I'm sorry, Bates."

"Don't be. There was no child. But by the time I realized, we were already married. Well, you can't be a married footman, can you? So I had to quit and take what work I could find. I found it at the docks. Back breaking labour for hardly any pay and it turns out my wife doesn't enjoy poverty. We fought like cats and dogs when we weren't both completely pissed. She was always on at me to get a better job and I was miserable at home and at work. One day I was walking home and saw a recruitment ad and off I went to sign up."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret leaving my mother. My wife's had to move in with her and they don't get on. But my life? I don't miss that, no. At least out here it's never dull, what with the danger of death around every corner. And working for you I'm asked to use my mind as well as my back. Plus, I've seen Africa now, haven't I. I'd never have been anywhere without the Army."

"What will you do when you go back?"

"You mean if I make it back." It was a statement, not a question. Both men knew that making it home was far from guaranteed. "Truthfully, Sir, I don't know. I don't know if I can go back to that life again. I may not be brave enough."

"I've no doubt of your bravery, Bates. It's been clearly demonstrated time and time again."

"You're talking about a dread of death. That's easy when you already dread your life. I don't suppose you would know much about that. And you shouldn't. You have a good home and a wonderful family to return to."

"Bates…"

John waved away whatever his commanding officer was about to say, "Don't misunderstand me, Sir. I don't begrudge you. You're a fine man and a fine officer. I'm honored to serve you. I'm just trying to explain why I don't get homesick."

"I do," Robert sighed, "almost all day every day. Sometimes I miss my wife and children, even my dog, so much I can barely function. You dread your life, and I'm terrified of my death. I'm not sure which of us is the lucky one."

John looked at Captain Crawley and gave a brief smile. He really was the best of men: fair, honorable, hardworking. John was rather fond of him and found himself admiring the Earl of Grantham more and more as each day passed. If he weren't married, John would honestly consider following him to his estate after the war. They got on well together and trusted each other completely. Besides, he could do with a break from London.

Robert roused John from his thoughts by standing and saying, "Come along, Bates. It's time for me to get some shut eye. You too, in fact. We have an early start tomorrow if we're to connect with Captain Burns by midmorning."

Bates rose as well, "As you say, Sir. I'll just go fetch some fresh water for your tent and join you in a moment."

As Captain Crawley made his way to his tent, Sergeant Bates went in search of water, alone with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2: The Prison Letter

**A/N This has been sitting on my computer for ages waiting for me to include it into a longer fiction about Robert and Bates. But that doesn't seem to be happening and I like this piece. I thought it deserved to see the light of day.**

My Lord-

Please forgive me in advance for the impertinence of this letter. At this point in my life I have very little time to waste on formality or prevarication. If the contents herein offend you in any way, feel free to give me the sack with no reference. _The pattern of the ink was broken here indicating to Robert that the valet had paused in his writing. He could almost hear Bates chuckling at his own gallows humor_

I write to you today to ask, no beg, a favor of you. My days are short and I fear I have made a mess of my life, although I am sure I haven't done yours any great good either. But Anna, my Anna, is innocent of any wrongdoing whatsoever. I fear she will, never the less, pay a great price for my sins. Her only error has been to give her heart so generously to the wrong man, and yet I find I cannot really blame her for that either. Who among us can control where our heart finds its home? If I had done a better job of keeping mine locked away there would be no need for this letter, this favor, at all.

So, here it is, I ask you to take care of Anna when I am gone. I know I have no right to ask this, or any other favor of you, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so I ask it anyway. You see, My Lord, although I have been lucky enough in my life to call many people my friends, Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore, chaps I knew in school or in the army, there have been very few I can say I have truly loved.

I believe there have been only three who have reached so deeply into the corners of my heart to claim that emotion. My mother was the first, and how glad I am that she did not live to see the trouble I am in at this moment. The second, of course, is Anna, may God forgive me. And the third My Lord, is you. I know you will be shaking your head and deny that an Englishman should admit to such an emotion for another Englishman, but it is true and I can not go to my grave without having you know it. I have never had a brother, but had I, I would have hoped that his character, honor and goodness would equal that which I see in you. I know now that I will never be a father, but had I been blessed with children I would hope that I would take as tender care of my offspring as you have of yours. They are all becoming fine women with generous spirits, no doubt due to the example you have set for them. I have been a husband twice. We know what a mess the first marriage was and continues to be, even from beyond the grave. The second, alas, I never had time to bring to full bloom. Had I been given more time with my dear Anna I would have used you as an example of marital bliss as well. There is no man that I admire more in this world.

I flatter myself to think that perhaps you have felt some affection for me as well over the years. I can think of no other reason for you to have given me so many chances. I can hear you now saying that you owe me your life, but that debt, if it ever existed, has been paid in full many times over. You gave me a job at Downton when no one else would hire me. You kept me on even after everyone, including those I now call friends, wanted me gone. You allowed me to return when I left you for Kirbymoorside. You have even hired and paid your own solicitor to represent me throughout this whole debacle. How many times have I disappointed you and yet you have always taken me back? The history of your kindness and generosity toward someone who has repaid you so dreadfully is the only thing that gives me the courage to write this letter.

So I ask again, can you find it in your heart to forgive me this one last time, for Anna's sake? I believe she has served you well and that you know how fine and deserving she is of your protection. I want to ask you to give her the cottage you had promised as my wedding present, and to keep her on at Downton, but I will not. It is for you to decide how best to care for her, being a far wiser man than I. I trust that you will find the best path for her and for yourself and your family. Please do not let her grieve for me endlessly. She is a young woman and can still find a happy life for herself with your help and protection. Perhaps Lady Mary can help with this request. I believe that she has a great deal of affection for my poor wife.

If you choose to grant this dying man's last request, I caution you that it will not be easy. Anna does not like decisions being made for her and will want to be included in the decision making process. I have made the mistake of thinking I knew what was best for her far too many times myself.

It grows dark here in my cell and I can no longer see the paper properly so I will close knowing that you are a good man and will do the right thing. I have taken up far too much of your time as it is.

I fear I shall never see you again and so I have the courage to sign this letter,

Your friend,

 **John Bates**

 _Robert put down the letter and tried to swallow, but found it impossible. He pulled his pocket square from his trousers and wiped at the corner of his eyes, feeling relief that he was alone in the library at this moment. Well, not quite alone. Isis, having sensed his distress, came and put her head in his lap, wagging her tail gently._

 _He was not willing to concede that the worst was bound to happen for Bates. But if it did happen, no he could not think it, but if it did, he would find a way to see to Anna's welfare. He would ask Mary to help him. But not today. He knew the valet was innocent with every fiber of his being and he would pay Murray whatever it took to prove it so, but first they had to have the death sentence overturned. He would go now and call to see if any progress had been made._


End file.
